The Twelve Pains of Christmas
by ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Christmas isn't all eggnog and popcorn balls. Especially not at Baker Street.
1. Tree

AN: Ah, Christmas time. Joy, presents, annoying carols, shops bursting with idiots...lovely.

Yeah. I'm sure Sherlock absolutely adores Christmas. So I took this song (Yes! _The Twelve Pains of Christmas_ exists! Sing to the tune of _The Twelve Days of Christmas_, obviously.) and Sherlock-ised it. Twelve days of misery, mayhem, and lights. Happy Holidays from Baker Street. (Psst...you might cheer him up if your great-aunt turns up murdered in a locked room.)

* * *

_"The first thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…is finding a Christmas tree."_

* * *

"Christmas tree."

"Yes."

"No! They shed. We kill plants. And besides, what idiot decided bringing a dying tree into the house was a good tradition?"

"Oh, yes, because murdering someone would be much better."

"You are on your own for this tree. And that's final."

John sighed and pulled on his jacket. Sometimes he wondered if his flatmates were related to the Grinch. They weren't green, but…Scrooge! They were related to Scrooge. They had to be.

Oh, never mind them. Christmas tree! He'd always liked trimming the tree. Carols on the radio, fresh popcorn…mm. Shame that he'd have to do it alone.

Ah! This place sold trees. He'd be back at the flat by noon now…wait. Wait one minute.

_Those_ were not trees! Those were twigs! Really? How dare the proprietor market those things as real trees. Humph. On to the next place, then.

_John. Where are you. SH_

He was going to kill them. It was their fault that there were no suitable trees in London.

Never mind how it was their fault. It just was.

_Tree hunting._

_Still? Come now, John, how hard can it be to find a half-dead plant? SH_

He didn't reply. It was getting late now, and he had two more places to check.

There were no trees. In the entire city of London, there were no trees. Perhaps he had fallen into some kind of alternate universe.

He hung his jacket up and shuffled upstairs, feeling rather depressed. He'd have to look again tomorrow, maybe take a bit of a trip…

"Hi."

"Mm."

They didn't even look up. Fine. Hopefully they weren't playing with explosive substances again…what was that smell? He smelled pine.

"What's that smell?"

"What smell."

"That pine-y smell."

"Pine."

Oh, what comedians they could be when they tried!

"What did you two…do?"

There was a tree in the flat. A real, live (well, somewhat live) Christmas tree. Where on…_Holmes._

"You did this."

"Did what."

"That tree."

There was no answer. He left it at that.

THE END


	2. Lights

AN: Look out for these lights throughout the story. In the original song, it became something of a war. As a lighting expert, don't chuck your lights in at random-wrap them carefully. Test them BEFORE you hang them up. And use multiple outlets. :)

* * *

_"The second thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…rigging up the lights…"_

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm not sure…"

"You're too short to reach."

"Just because you're freakishly tall-!"

"I am not!"

John groaned. Leave it to them to have an argument about Christmas lights.

Mrs Hudson had _requested_ help putting up her icicles that year. She had promised to ignore the _little_ explosion if they did. Unfortunately, said icicles were a tangled mess that didn't want to work. Sherlock had been delighted at the prospect of playing with electricity. Sarah was irked because she couldn't reach the roof even with a stepladder. John just hoped Sherlock didn't break his neck or electrocute himself.

"I really don't think that's a good idea."

"I can manage!"

"But…"

**ZAP!**

John jumped. Now what had his idiot friend done?

"John!"

He sounded fine. He looked fine. But the icicles…oh, god, the _icicles_.

They were a melted mess.

"What was that?"

"Mrs Hudson! We will need to replace the icicles!"

"Sherlock Holmes, what have you done?"

THE END


	3. Hangovers

AN: I have news! Pointless news, but...anyway. Those of you who like to write Sherlock/baby interactions should rejoice! There is a very old television series that dumps a baby on his doorstep for an episode. Makes sense in context. It is HILARIOUS. Holmes is a combination of 'it _is_ kind of cute.' and 'WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO WITH IT?' *snickers* That is all. You can probably Google the episode, but I don't recall the title-if I think of it, I'll let you know.

**Sarah (Guest)-**Thanks! I'm very glad you're enjoying it!

* * *

_"The third thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…hangovers…"_

* * *

Harry Watson had never seen her brother get really, honest-to-god drunk. Tipsy, of course, but full-on drunk? Nope.

It was hilarious.

Or it had been, before the hangover struck.

She'd tried to help her baby brother. 'Drink lots of water!' she said. 'Maybe you should stop now.' she said. But no, he could take care of himself. She wondered if he thought so now, curled up in the bathroom with the lights off.

"John? John, are you okay?"

"Quiet."

She wondered if she should call his flatmates to come and fetch him. No, they might experiment on him. They were prone to that.

"John, do you want me to call your flatmates?"

"God, no!"

She'd thought so.

This was one of the really big perks of the holiday season-family, friends, and Christmas drinks. Shame she had to play nursemaid now.

John's phone buzzed and she picked it up. The name _SHERLOCK_ glared at her from the screen.

_John. The lights exploded. SH_

"John? Your friend says the lights exploded."

There was a low groan from the bathroom.

"Got any more vodka?"

THE END


	4. Cards

AN: Yay for e-cards! Send an e-card, save a tree! Unless you're Mycroft.

Sarah (Guest)-I try.

* * *

_"The fourth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…sending Christmas cards…"_

* * *

Sometimes Mycroft wondered what would happen if he stopped sending cards at Christmas. He only did it for good-boss points. In all honesty, he rather loathed his underlings at times.

He looked forlornly at his card list. He didn't even know half of these people! Surely it wasn't necessary to send them cards.

A brief image of the world ending flashed in his head and he sighed. No, it was necessary. He had to be a decent boss or there would be a mutiny. Lovely.

He wondered if he could get away with ignoring his siblings, at least…no. Mummy would _not_ be pleased.

Wasn't there somebody on this list he could scratch off?

No, there really wasn't. He picked up his pen, pulled an irritatingly cheerful card towards him, and signed his name. One down, ninety-nine to go.

THE END


	5. Bills

AN: Yeah, I had trouble with this one. Sincere apologies. That aside: to all the people who have followed/favourited/whatevered this story, YOU ARE BRILLIANT. May your fridge never have eyeballs in it. :)

Feagalad-I'm glad I'm not the only giggle-stiffler on this site!

Sarah (Guest)-Yes, poor Mycroft.

* * *

_"The fifth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…FIVE MONTHS OF BILLS!"_

* * *

Mrs Hudson looked over her gift list. A new scarf for John-his old one had managed to catch fire. Those white chocolate candies for Sarah. A gift card to the pet boutique for Molly-she really did love that cat. And Sherlock…oh, yes. A book on bees-his latest hobby. Those were the easy ones. Now she had to deal with her mother, her aunt, and her crotchety cousin. Her mother would be happy with a cake, and her aunt might settle for a day out, but the cousin…

As terrible and un-Christmasy as it may have sounded, Mrs Hudson rather hoped the cousin would be indisposed on Christmas. _She_ would expect a big to-do of some kind-pedicure, shopping trip, overly expensive makeup…

_I'll be paying for her for five months after this!_

THE END


	6. In-Laws

AN: Although I don't have in-laws, I acknowledge that most of my relatives are absolutely insane.

yarnandahalfspinner: That's good.

ErinKenobi2893-Thanks! Mycroft is a Grinch, Sherlock is a Scrooge, and John is either Cindy Lou-Who or Tiny Tim.

Sarah-I'm glad.

* * *

_"The sixth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…facing my in-laws…"_

* * *

Lestrade didn't want to see his mother-in-law. He'd never liked her, and the feeling had been mutual. If he and the missus hadn't been trying to make up, he'd have gone to work.

**Buzz.**

Sherlock? Why is Sherlock texting now? Really?

_You're good with lights. SH_

_Yes…_

_Why do they explode when plugged into a single socket? SH_

_You need an extension cord! What are you doing?_

_Thank you. SH_

Poor John. Lestrade couldn't spare too much pity, though, because Mama had arrived.

"Gregory!"

"Ma'm."

"Stand up straight. Why aren't you helping in the kitchen?"

"I was on my way there, ma'm."

_I can't believe this. I have to cook, clean, entertain…and she's not even my mother! Or even my aunt!_

"Get on with it!"

"Right away, ma'm."

God, what a witch. Lucky John. He'd have killed to deal with Sherlock's lights.

THE END


	7. Charities

AN: As terrible as this sounds, sometimes I feel like this. Usually about halfway through the season, when they start trying to guilt you into giving them money.

Sarah-Poor Lestrade.

* * *

_"The seventh thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…Salvation Army…"_

* * *

Jim Moriarty scowled at yet another bell-ringer. Charities. Bah, humbug. Christmas was all very nice-peppermint lattés, the classic TV specials…but those damned bell-ringers! They just…wouldn't…STOP!

Jim adjusted his sunglasses, looked at his phone, and wondered if it would be worth it to blow up one of the bell-ringers. That might be fun.

"Change for the animal shelter, sir?"

But not this one. He liked animals. He may not have liked that pathologist-Mary? Miley?-but he'd liked her cat. He rather missed Toby, actually.

"Sure."

"God bless."

Why did they have to bring religion into everything? Really? That did it. The next idiot that asked him for money was going to get a nice, custom-fitted Semtex vest, just in time for Christmas.

THE END


	8. Kids

AN: Also beware of kids getting flu shots. Never underestimate the power of a terrified five year-old.

Izfish-It's okay to laugh. Laughter is good for the soul. How else would Looney Tunes have endured this long?

Saavikam69-Thanks! :)

Sarah-Oh, god, yes. I can't even make it through the animal shelter ads.

* * *

_"The eighth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…I WANNA TRANSFORMER FOR CHRISTMAS!"_

* * *

She was calm. Honestly. She had never been so calm.

"Aunt Sally!"

This was worse than the Freak. Five times worse! Why couldn't her sister train her son?

"Buy me somethin'!"

"Christmas is coming. No."

"I want candy!"

She would have given anything to be back at work. Anything. She might have even hugged Sherlock if it meant she could deposit the little monster back with his mother.

Said little monster had run off and smacked into a man in a jumper. Great. With her luck, he'd be in a bad mood. Ohh, she was never babysitting again…

"Sergeant Donavon?"

"Doctor Watson?"

Ah, it was her lucky day. John would give her a break.

"Yours?"

"Sister's."

"That's…"

"Yes."

He was alone. That was odd. He'd taken to dragging the _other ones_ out shopping with him.

"Where are they?"

"Christmas lights. It's become a vendetta." His phone went off. "Hang on. I'm at the store, just hang…you what? How did you…never mind. I'm coming, I'm coming. Just don't touch anything. Do you need to call the fire department? You're sure? Fine. I'll be home soon." He hung up. "Never again."

"Lights?"

"Mm."

There was a shriek of, "I want THIS!" Donavon sighed and wondered if John would trade her.

"See you."

"See you."

Oh, what fun the holidays could be.

THE END


	9. Parking

AN: I love Amazon for this reason alone.

Sarah-I'd take the lights any day.

* * *

_"The ninth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…finding parking spaces…"_

* * *

Molly knew she shouldn't bother with a car. She should just take the tube, like everyone else. But the mall was so far and the tube was so grimy…why had she been stupid enough to buy a car in London? Why?

She'd been driving around for ten minutes when she saw what might have been a spot. Yes! Yes! Yes…NO! Damn those little motor scooters!

She slumped forward, feeling slightly dramatic, and wondered why she hadn't gotten her shopping done earlier. Like in August.

There! There was a spot! She gunned it, prepared to pull in…and was cut off by some jerk in a convertible.

Oh, joy. At least there were Christmas carols on the radio.

THE END


	10. Batteries

AN: Again, had trouble. We always had batteries on-hand anyway.

Sarah-Holiday parking should be inducted as another level of Hell.

* * *

_"The tenth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…'batteries not included'…"_

* * *

Anthea-she rather liked this name, perhaps she would keep it for a while longer-looked at the box. Kids today…but this was what her niece wanted, and this is what she would get. A robotic dog. Poo-chi or whatever. It was pink and it barked.

She supposed she should test it out. Just a quick 'try me' thing. She wouldn't even have to take it out of the packaging. Good thing, too-it was well protected in a blister pack.

She pushed the button. Nothing happened. Shame. She'd just…what did that say?

**Batteries not included.**

Really?

_Really?_

She sighed. She'd just have to hope for the best, then.

'Batteries not included'. That was ridiculous.

THE END


	11. Telly

AN: I rather like the Christmas specials. They numb my brain and help me sleep. And let's be honest-'You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch' is terribly catchy.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-I've got today's and tomorrow's...will that be enough?

* * *

_"The eleventh thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…stale TV specials…"_

* * *

John leaned back in his chair and settled back to watch some crap telly. The twins were still fighting with the lights. Losing, too, by the sound of it. Good. That would keep them busy for a while.

"…stop wobbling! Are you trying to drop me?"

"Hurry up!"

He shook his head, grinning, and changed the channel. Rudolph. Again. For the…eighth time this month? Maybe the twelfth. Fine. He'd flip over…Frosty the snowman.

Grinch.

Christmas Carol.

Really? Why couldn't they play their normal programming? They'd played all of these a million times already!

"Got it…Sherlock!"

**Crash.**

Never mind the stale specials. His flatmates were far more entertaining.

THE END


	12. Carols

AN: The original song ended with the light-singer going, "FINE! IF YOU'RE SO SMART, YOU RIG UP THE LIGHTS!" So...yeah.

That's a wrap! Love to each and every one of you. May your lights never give you trouble.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Your timing is impeccable. I'd be scared too, actually, especially about tomorrow...

Guest-In canon, yes. I gave myself a personal challenge to create an OC in Sherlock-land, and Sarah Holmes (Sherlock's younger-by-two-minutes-and-forty-nine-seconds sister) was born. Poor John.

Sarah-Are you serious? Faith in humanity: RESTORED.

* * *

_"The twelfth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me…singing Christmas carols…"_

* * *

Sherlock sighed and reached up to adjust the last of those damned icicles. Careful, careful…yes! Now, if only they would turn on.

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…a partridge in a pear tree!"

That was a horrible present.

"I think we got them."

"Congratulations."

"Yes."

The carollers came closer. It would be best to turn the lights on quickly and flee for the safety of his violin.

"On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree!"

"Let's go in."

They made it in before the singers came down the street, but John liked the noise and opened the window. He would.

"The lights aren't on."

"Yes they are."

"Um…no. They're not on."

He looked outside. The lights were not on.

"Sherlock?"

"The lights."

"What…"

"Are you sure you did them right?"

Oh, that was _it_! Since he knew so much about lights, he could deal with them!

"Go and see. I am staying in this flat with the windows shut."

John gave him a dirty look but went outside. Sherlock closed the window and shut the drapes. He was done with Christmas for the year.

"Would you make me a cup of tea?"

"Make your own. And move over."

Siblings. He would never understand the to-do about 'family Christmases'. Never.

"On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…FIIIVE GOOLDEN RINGS!"

"Why can't they shut up."

"I don't know."

She got up again and came back with tea. Oh, look, she'd made him a cup after all. They were just settling in with How _The Grinch Stole Christmas_ when there was an irritated squawk from outside.

"These lights!"

Poor John.

THE END


End file.
